The Coffee Shop Around the Corner
by immunologie
Summary: Cosima Niehaus is on her way to completing her senior year at the University of Minnesota without a hitch when a tall girl with impeccably-styled blonde curls, a dignified strut, and a sleek leather handbag walks in on her morning shift at the coffee shop. Cophine coffeeshop AU.
1. Chapter 1

_"The wind changed, the first day that you came through_

_Cut the corn, washed it clean_

_Now everything that's ever gone before, is like a blur_

_And it's all because of you."_

…

_Remember you used to imagine your perfect day in the future?_

_It would start out in the morning at the lab doing research, then going on rounds at the hospital._

_And in the afternoon, teaching classes and interns._

_Late afternoon you're at your clinic seeing patients._

_Then late evening after dinner you're writing._

…

"Don't forget to restock the baguettes!" a gruff voice bellowed from the back.

She grimaced over the heat of the espresso machine, hands stained with dribbles of earth, milk, and bread crumbs. She dashed a hand through the raggedy towel on the cabinet handle, skimming the other down her faded gray apron, shaking her head at her naked wrists as she yelled a reply.

"Just a minute! I have a mini-backup on the latte train—"

"Niehaus!" it boomed once more, clearer, as she whirled around, her dreadlocks beginning to disturb in their bun. A heavy-set man with a lumberjack beard and a cowlick stepped out from the kitchen to add another tray of steaming pastries onto the counter before pointing a muscular tattoed arm towards her. "Just get it done."

She blinked for a second, her mouth hanging open in thought before she turned back to the waiting cups and calculated a simpler response. "Sure, Jack."

"Hurry up."

"Uhm." Syrup. Squirt. Her hands dancing in the air, masters of the steamed milk. "You got it, Jack."

Within seconds, a stylistic leaf emerged in white over the light brown foam. She smiled and set it on the pick-up counter, calling out a name.

She glanced back at the kitchen entrance and caught the edge of an approving smile on her boss's profile as he shuffled back in.

It had been 3 years, after all. She'd never failed Bean & Cream Roasters, and she wasn't about to now. Not when she was so close to having another perfect recommendation for her medical school application.

Sure, griming around behind the bar of some indie coffee shop was not as scientific as being behind a laboratory counter, and nowhere near what she'd imagine her perfect future to consist of, but she was good at it and the place felt like home. And she was one school year away from finally achieving the first steps toward that dream.

_Cosima Niehaus, MD._

Or even PhD.

But she had begun to tap into Pulmonology research and books and meetings - anything she could get into. Ever since she'd lost her older sister to a genetic lung disease two years ago, she couldn't see herself as anything but becoming someone who would be able to help those afflicted with the same. She had always been interested in science all of her life anyway. It was a given.

Getting accepted into a prestigious medical school, however, was not. And on top of that, there was the University of Minnesota's graduation requirements. She couldn't afford any distractions this senior year.

She threw on a determined look and focused back on the coffee cups.

She was about to finish organizing her newly stocked baguettes when the cold September wind blew into the shop, making the leaf decorations quiver and flap. She furrowed her brows, hoping to direct the leaves to stay put with her stare. They had just put them up yesterday.

The gust kept on.

Irritated, she looked over the pastry display to see the wood-framed door being held open by a large, blocky man in a suit and a sour face.

_Why was he holding it open for so damn long? Did he think he looked totes cool with those black sunglasses?_

_Totes **not**, _she thought.

She was about to scold Mr. Suit when a tall girl with impeccably-styled blonde curls and the slightest hint of brown roots walked in; a dignified strut, a sleek leather handbag that screamed _I-got-duped-into-paying-too-much-for-this-sack_, pursed red lips, and pretty eyes to complete a pretty face.

As soon as the girl walked in, the man in the sunglasses closed the door and stood behind her, clasping his hands in front of him in silence.

_The fuck…?_

The girl's light eyes took a quick toll of the shop's interior before her lips managed a smug curve.

Cosima was not about to let Daddy's Girl block the entrance during the morning rush. She'd already had enough of her - what was he - man-nanny(?) who made her feel as if this little cafe was under surveillance from aliens. She'd grown up with enough bullies from Valley High who thought they were all Regina George reincarnated.

"Excuse me! Please don't block the door, you can order at the counter."

The blonde's eyes darted towards her with a fiery stare, as fiery as the colored earth could muster on that autumn morning. Cosima didn't back down and kept her gaze through black-rimmed eyeglasses.

Somehow, the blonde managed a gratified smile and slowly traipsed toward a leather couch by the window, suited nanny in tow.

"Weird," Angie whispered as she walked past Cosima, carrying fresh canisters of steamed milk.

"Totally," she replied, glancing over as the girl made herself comfortable on the couch, her (nicely) toned legs crossing at the ankles. "Like, who wears fucking _heels _like that in this weather?"

"I have no idea, but she's definitely not from around here," her fellow barista added. "New student perhaps?"

The man in the sunglasses remained standing but bent over to lend an ear as the blonde spoke.

Cosima shook her head as she closed the pastry display. "God, I hope not. She looks like a bitch who got on with daddy's money."

She felt a towel whip at her arm. "What?"

Angie lifted a brow. "Be nice!" Then a smirk.

Cosima sighed. "What?"

"Don't you think she's hot?"

"Shut up."

Angie chuckled. "So that's a yes."

She sighed and walked towards the register. "I don't have time for this."

She could hear Angie giggle as she turned to see the man in the sunglasses walk up to the counter. She eyed the table by the window to see the blonde poised in her seat, looking out quietly at the pedestrians.

"Bonjour. A medium hot café noisette with 2 shots of espresso, plus de sucre, s'il vous plait," announced a baritone voice.

She shook her head and looked up at the shades, his eyes non-visible. She blinked a couple of times and quirked her lip. "Uhh, sorry?"

He repeated the order with the same fluid pronunciation, accent and all.

"_Café noisette_?" she repeated.

"Oui."

"I'm sorry, but that's not on the menu. Is this for you?"

"Non."

She sighed as he walked backed towards the blonde by the window. "Figures," she muttered under her breath.

She rang up 3 customers before the man in the sunglasses returned. "So what does she want?"

He continued again in the same curt manner. "The mademoiselle would like a medium hot café noisette with 2 shots of espresso and extra sugar, please."

She raised her eyebrows. "That's… the same exact order, just in english."

"Oui."

She looked at the line of patrons behind him beginning to fidget in wait. She drew a breath.

"Look, sir, are you French?"

"Yes."

"Great, but _monsieur_, I'm sorry, this is America and we do not have _café noisette _here on our menu - at least not in this shop. So if you or your _mademoiselle_ don't want any other coffee or a baguette, then you'll have to find another café."

"You have it," announced a smooth voice in a lovely accent.

Cosima glanced to the side and jerked at the sight of the blonde, who had apparently made her way in front of the pastry display. Still in shock at the nerve of her business, no words formed in her mouth. The blonde continued.

"Café noisette is just espresso with a dash of cream." The girl gazed at her, hazel eyes and the same proud smirk.

Cosima rang it up as the girl made her way to the register, opening her purse.

"Well you could've just said _that_," Cosima grumbled.

She'd had better days. Today was not one of them. She glanced at the clock on the wall. _Thank God._ One more hour until her shift finished, then she could hop across the street to campus and lecture, where she was happiest.

"Well, I was informed that this was the finest French café in Minneapolis," the girl continued. It was a good thing her voice was pleasant.

_A little too pleasant__._ Cosima had always found French to be a fascinating language, but never had time to learn it amidst all of her science courses. She chuckled at bright eyes that met hers and accepted the credit card.

At a quick glance, it was black and had a look of class. She didn't know much about credit cards but she'd never seen one like it enough to conclude its exclusivity.

"Apparently not French enough," she shrugged, handing back the card. "Although, we do have the best café au lait in town."

"Hmm."

It was the only thing the girl with the pretty eyes said before sauntering back to her seat.

"Good going, Niehaus."

She threw a look at Angie. "What?"

A shrug. "I dunno… Let's just hope she doesn't write a bad review for French Weekly or have her bodyguards take us all hostage."

Cosima scowled. "It's _one_ dude!"

"So?" Angie placed a hand at her hip and nodded towards the window table. "Look at her. For all we know, she could be a big business mogul's daughter - sent here to see the competition - or the French mafia's daughter —"

She laughed and shook her head. "Bean & Cream? The competition? What is she, some coffee connoisseur? She's no Paris Hilton, that's for sure."

They stole a glance at the blonde frenchwoman, silently sipping her coffee.

_No, she's no Paris Hilton_, Cosima thought. _Paris Hilton isn't even French!_ This girl was… gentler. More refined. Lovely.

Her thoughts wandered before putting up the gates of self-preservation as the man in the sunglasses strode once more towards her.

"Yes?"

"The mademoiselle would like to please ask you to 'keep your eyes to yourself'."

Her mouth gaped. "What are you— I wasn't—"

Suddenly, the blonde appeared from behind him. _How does she do that?_ For all Cosima knew, the girl was probably also a ninja.

Her eyes glared at Cosima unabashedly. Cosima could feel her cheeks blazing. A silky voice.

"It's fine, Frédéric. We were just leaving."

Frédéric the bodyguard-nanny minced his lip before turning towards the door. Cosima blinked rapidly back at the girl who spoke again.

"This was a.. how do you say? Terrible.. café noisette."

Cosima could've said sorry politely like a good employee would, but she was beyond pissed. The girl was arrogant and pretentious and frivolous and the prettiest girl she'd ever seen - but that didn't excuse her audacity at this point. The day had started out so well. And then this girl walks in, prancing about in her haughty manner. _Who does she think she is? _All Cosima wanted was to have at least 10 more minutes of peace before her shift ended. But no._  
_

"Look, _mademoiselle_," she emphasized mockingly, "I told you we didn't have that on the menu but the best baristas in this side of the city still tried to make it for you. Maybe you went to the wrong coffee shop if you were looking for five star treatment. The sign outside says—"

"'Little coffee shop around the corner specializing in soy lattes and gluten-free baguettes', yes, I saw," she interrupted. Cosima fell silent. She had gone out of line and the girl knew it. The girl gave a small smile. "Maybe I should've tried those?"

Cosima looked down and snorted quietly. "Maybe."

"I'll take one."

She looked up to see the girl fiddling once more with her purse.

"Sorry?"

The girl flashed her a gorgeous smile. Perfectly aligned white teeth. "You're forgiven."

Cosima blinked and cocked her head. _What in the hell?_ **_This_ _girl_**.

"A baguette. To go, s'il vous plait," the girl continued.

Confused, she rang up the order half-mindedly. All she could fathom was that her pulse had begun speeding.

"What is your name?" the girl asked, almost song-like.

"Uhm… Cosima."

A flash of hazel in the late morning light. "Intéressant. Like Cosimo de' Medici but with an 'a'?"

She pushed back the swell in her throat as she dug out the dusty shelves of history lessons from the corners of her brain. _Medici_. She was terrible at history.

She breathed in the discomfort of not knowing the answer. She hated not being right. "Uhh, sure, yeah."

The girl paid once more with the black card and picked up her baguette. Without another word, she was gone.

Cosima looked up at the clock. _11:50 AM_.

The girl had left her 10 minutes of peace. Cosima didn't even know her name.

"Well, you two got along quite well," Angie blurted, snapping her out of her mental daze.

She shook her head as she started rinsing the frothing cups. The crowd had dwindled down, the patrons heading out to their lunch spots. "God, she was…"

"A breath of fresh air?"

"Hell no. She was insane."

She wiped the counter clean. 5 minutes to go.

"You think she'll come back?" Angie pressed on, returning from a round of cleaning the tables.

"I hope not."

"Are you sure about that?"

She scrunched her face. "Totally. Why?"

"Because Paris Hilton just left you this at her table."

Angie handed her a coffee cup sleeve with a bill. From what she could see, it had the number 500.

She creased her brows and took the sleeve and its contents in her hand. On the side of brown recycled paper, in exquisite script, it read:

_For the girl in the glasses with the locks in her hair and the sad smile. Cheer up._


	2. Chapter 2

She had finished unpacking the last of the boxes marked _Cos' __bloody__ dorm_ when a series of knocks rapped on the door.

She flung the bedsheets on top of the bed, a stream of cotton still attached to the edge of the cardboard. "Just a sec!"

Fixing her spaghetti straps, she wrapped a crimson pullover around her shoulders, pushing dreads against her nape, and hopped towards the door.

"Hey, Nerdturd! Welcome back!"

Cosima laughed and opened an arm to hug the stocky boy with the buzz cut. "Hey, Art. Good to see you!"

"What, no Bitchass today?" He broke away and surveyed the room behind her.

She planted a hand on her forehead and sighed, following his gaze.

Yes, she had finished unpacking the boxes - but actually arranging her dorm room? That was another matter entirely.

"Yeah, sorry, I— just a little busy today," she rambled, snatching the train of blanket stuck in the box and dumping it on the bed.

Art strolled in after her, picking at the tousled articles and arranging them in a neater fashion. "I can see why. Monkeys, huh?"

She glanced back at the bed sheets that were now being folded, little cartoon monkey patterns placed about. "Yeah… Sarah. She likes monkeys. She'll probably even name her kid 'monkey'."

"It doesn't really scream you. Unless they had nerd glasses on 'em," he commented.

"Hah," she snorted. "Well, they were the only ones I found at home before I left - Sarah can go dig up another set. I'll have to wait until next paycheck probably to pick up a new one. Unless…"

He glanced up from placing the strewn biology textbooks in a pile on her cabinet. Amid all of the mess, Cosima sat steadfast at her desk, leaning in with complete focus.

Art Bell had been best friends with the Nerdturd since freshman year when they were seatmates in Origins of Justice. He had thought of her as a "know-it-all"; annoying and completely absorbed in the most boring class in the world. She thought he was just a grumpy hard ass who was too serious and worked too hard to ever enjoy anything outside of the most boring class in the world.

One fateful day of scattered papers, a spilled orange juice, and getting kicked out of Justice changed all of that. They reveled in the mess. They let go of the sticks up their asses. They became partners in crime.

So he knew that, when Cosima Niehaus was in complete-absorption-mode like she was at that moment, it was serious.

"Unless what?" he motioned, making his way next to her seat.

She swiveled around and held up a bill. It was foreign currency, with the face of a woman and a man from a century long ago, and a big 500 on its lower right corner. "500 francs. How much do you think this is worth?"

He crumpled his brows and shrugged. "500… euros? I dunno, man. Where'd you get that?"

She whirled back and began to type furiously on her laptop. "Some french girl. Left it as a tip at the cafe."

"500 foreign dollars as a tip?" he picked up the bill and inspected it. She held up a coffee cup sleeve.

"Yeah, she left it in this."

"That's… oddly romantic," he nodded, a smirk forming on his face.

"Or oddly psychopathic," she mumbled, pulling up search results. "I swear, I was such a bitch to her, I don't even know…"

"Was she hot at least?"

Cosima ignored him and clicked on a link.

He chuckled, "Well, she must've been pretty enough to hold your attention up until now, and she must be some sort of rich. Did she get your num—"

"Art!"

"What."

"I've already had enough of this from Angie. The girl was a pain in my ass the whole shift. I hope to God she never brings her face around the shop again."

He bit his lip and nodded. "Sorry, Cos."

"Bitchass.." she muttered, half-smiling.

He grinned as they turned back once more to the laptop. "So how much is this in dollars?"

Cosima's face fell flat.

"Is this a joke?" She shoved away from the desk. "They've phased out francs since 2002. 500 francs… This is shit!"

"So I'm guessing mystery french girl is _not_ the french president's daughter?" he quipped.

She shook her head with vigor. She could almost feel steam coming out of her ears. "God, I hate her!"

…

"Madame," he spoke over the din of designer leather sofas being arranged in the salon behind him.

She looked up from her tea, setting the cup down beside the 3-tiered tray.

"Frédéric," she greeted, the light on her face flickering from the shuffling of silk drapes being put up on the east side of the study. "What is it?"

"Monsieur est au téléphone parler avec vous."

She sighed and turned back to pick at the blueberry scones on the top tray. Her eyes fell to the smoked salmon sandwiches on sliced portions of baguette encircling the middle tray. _Gluten free baguettes, served daily_.

She tentatively reached out and took one with her fingers, and answered, "Frédéric, you know what they say, 'when in Rome, do as the Romans do'."

She looked up at the burly figure in his black suit. She had known him her whole life. He wasn't just a bodyguard or a butler, he was the big brother she never had, and her friend. One of her only friends..

But now they had finally gone somewhere far from the confines of expectation. She wanted him to be able to relax from his duties as well.

"While we're here, let's enjoy the.. how do they say? The 'lingo'?" she grinned.

He glanced around in slight confusion before regaining his composure. "…Yes, Madame."

"Frédéric."

"…Yes."

"It's just Delphine now, yes?"

"…Yes."

She chuckled as she focused on the sandwich in her hand. Frédéric cleared his throat.

"But… Mad— _Delphine_—"  
"Yes?"  
"Your father is waiting…"

She heaved another sigh and promised to finish the baguette sandwiches later. It was the only thing that interested her on that tray now.

_Because the girl had suggested it?_

She shushed the thought away. What was it about that strange girl anyhow? She had given them quite the attitude.

She smiled and said, "Please keep the sandwiches for me when I return."

Frédéric looked at his ward with curiosity. It was his job to watch over her - so of course he had caught the light smiles that had begun to grace her face since that morning at the little rustic cafe on the corner.

He had pondered over the many things he had seen in his time; about the certain looks people revealed on their faces, about what they inferred - and how he had learned to read them to understand what it was his charges needed before they even vocalized it. And such things as why the young woman had been blessed with everything one could possibly wish for and, yet, had grown into sadness.

And why, after so many years and attempts by those closest to her, nothing had immediately been able to bring back that slight movement of the lip in an arc of utmost sincerity. Until now. And so he dared, just this once.

"It's that girl at the coffee shop, isn't it?" he blurted.

Delphine stopped in her tracks and blinked the rhythm of her smile.

"I… don't know, Frédéric."

"Perhaps the young lady would like to find out more," he quipped.

A sudden laugh filled the air. _Unprecedented_, he thought.

She turned with cheer. "Perhaps. But please don't go operative and torture anyone on my behalf."

_I'll handle it myself_, she convicted and walked out to the salon, her eyes grazing over the arrangements of flowers cradled in their vases.

…

She picked up the handset and pressed the receive button. "Papa."

An aged voice spoke with elegant sternness. "Delphine. Qu'est-ce que tu fais là? Je pensais que nous étions d'accord sur New York."

"Because there is too much noise in New York. Just like home," she retorted.

There was the rumble of a sigh at the other end. "So Minnesota."

"Oui."

A silence of mused notions. He then spoke. "Well, I hope you find what it is you've been missing here, ma chère. But one more word of mischief, and I will ask you to come back. Or I will have to cut the funding."

She swallowed the strain that had formed on the lines of her forehead. "Oui, Papa."

…

It wasn't that New York was too loud. She liked the city life. There were more _people, _and to her it meant more life, more energy. The energy she'd been hoping to regain for years.

The energy which had eluded her all her days within the bounds of what was acceptable to her society and to her family.

The life she envisioned within the words of the stories she used to read, from books that served as her only friends before her younger brother entered into the world. And why it was so different from the bleakness of her history lessons that she managed to create her own theories to infuse color into their mishaps and milestones.

She guessed that's why some can find the dullest of subjects fascinating, with this infusion of beauty; the creation of a world in which one felt a sense of belonging.

If only she knew the words that would make the actual physical world as enjoyable.

She had never been able to because she had never been free.

It wasn't her family's fault, she considered. They too had been trapped into growing in certain directions, in accordance with history. But she didn't want to be like that.

So she chose Minnesota.

Looking back, she never meant this 'rebellion'. She never meant the scandal. And she never meant to hurt anyone.

Sometimes she didn't even know when it would happen. She was raised to keep her emotions from revealing themselves in public, and so was her family.

_So how was she able to tell when it truly hurt?_

_Were they made to be indifferent?_

This was not so - she knew it to be - because… she was _irritated_ at that little coffee shop around the corner. She _wanted_ that girl to pay for her impudence. How dare she?

Then Delphine remembered.

_No one knew who she was here._

She dabbed the napkin on her mouth, relishing in the glorious taste of salmon and baguette. It was _very_ good.

How can someone be so wrong and so right?

It fascinated her much that she stood and made her way to the phone in the salon.

_No mischief, Papa, I promise_, she thought as she dialed a number. _This is a thank you._

…

"So let me get this straight. She left you french money that isn't even worth anything?"

She raised her brows and stared blankly at the wooden counter before turning back to Angie. "Yeah. Basically."

"Wow, what a douche."

"Tell me about it," she blew through her teeth, picking up a towel. It was almost 10 minutes before her shift ended. Plenty of time to wipe everything and have a bit of chit chat. "I can't even exchange it at a bank anymore."

Angie patted her on the shoulder. "Forget about it, Cos. Don't let it bother you, you have your first exam later, right?"

She nodded sullenly as she began running the towel across the counter.

"Yeah, so. Focus!"

A snort.

Angie pressed her lips together and shrugged. "She's probably not even French. She's probably Canadian."

Cosima looked up with a half smile. "Anj, it's okay. Don't worry about me. I already studied, you know that."

She was always ready - she was one of the smartest people in her class. But that didn't seem to translate into the relationship situation.

Sure, Art and Angie would always try to set her up on dates. She met people in her campus organizations. She felt the connection. Sometimes.

Apparently, the other party didn't understand this connection and another dropped call would be added to her list.

Art would conclude that she wasn't being rejected. Her brain was running on fiber-optic internet and those little 56kbit/s modems just couldn't keep up.

She smiled because she had good friends, and with her academic schedule, she didn't have time for relationships anyway. She could wait.

But when she'd look out over the countertop and see a couple sharing morning cups of coffee, fingers touching outside mitten flap gloves, and gazing out into the world together… she sometimes wished she could give up fiber-optics and wait through all the screeching just for a chance to hear "you've got mail" that was meant only for her.

"Holy shit…"

"What?" she glanced up from behind the counter to see Angie looking out at the door. Her gaze followed.

Entering Bean & Cream Roasters was not one, not two - not even three - but at least a dozen large bouquets of blue and white flowers fashionably arranged in clear glass vases being carried in by several people.

"What the hell is going on here?" Jack barked from the kitchen archway.

Cosima threw a confused look as Angie scurried out to talk to the deliverers. "You didn't order this, Jack?"

"Blue and white flowers in ribbons? What do you think this is, Niehaus, a bridal shop?"

She chuckled nervously and briskly made her way towards Angie. "I'm on it."

The entire shop's eyes were on them. She stole a glance at the clock. _11:50 AM_.

_Why does this shit always have to happen at the end of my shift?_

"Angie, what's going on?"

Her fellow barista creased her forehead and turned towards her. "Cos… they're for you."

Her mouth hung open. "What…?"

The woman directing the delivery walked up to her. "Cosim-a with an 'a'?" she read off her chart.

Cosima stared in shock at the horde of flower arrangements littering the cafe. "Uhh… yeah."

"Fantastic! This is a delivery of a dozen bouquets of blue irises and white lilies, it was labeled as a 'thank you' gift. So, thank _you_ for your business! We hope to hear from you again at 1-800-FLOWERS."

She gaped as the woman rattled off her speech. "But why… are there… so many?"

"It's a dozen," Angie whispered next to her. "…I counted."

"Niehaus, what is this?" Jack shot out from behind them.

"I… don't… know," she mumbled, eyes wide. She noticed a nametag on the woman's blouse. _Luce_.

"Uhm. Luce, right?"  
"Yes."  
"…_Who_ sent this?"

The woman scanned her chart and shook her head. "I'm sorry, but there's no name here, just that thank you message."

She nodded slowly. "Why… was this delivered _here_?"

There was the shaking of the head once again. "This was the address given. Is that all?"

Cosima gulped and stared intensely at the vases with only one thought.

_She was going to be late for class_.

As 1-800-FLOWERS receded into their delivery truck, she turned to see her boss eyeing the bouquets with a lifted eyebrow.

"I'm so sorry, Jack. I'll move them out right now."

He drew a deep breath and looked at his two baristas. "Deangelis, man the counter. Niehaus, just make sure those don't block the door."

"You don't want me to take them home right now?"

He managed a tiny grin. "You can leave 'em here for now. Don't you have that exam today?"

She chuckled in relief. "Yeah…"

"You focus on that. Besides," he shrugged, making his way back to the kitchen. "It's nice to get flowers once in a while, innit?"

Yeah. _One_ flower. Not a country.

Angie laughed beside her. "You think this is from…?"

She flared her breath. "_Cosima with an 'a'_? Oh, it's her."

A gush. "You have to admit, Niehaus. That's kinda romantic."

Cosima lugged a vase to decorate the counter side.

"No."

She took it back. Maybe she didn't want mail after all. "This does not calculate. This is insanity," she continued.

But when she sat at her first exam of the school year, all she could think about was the pretty blonde frenchwoman and the slight curve of her lips.

…And the 144 flowers that were now sitting in her dorm room.


	3. Chapter 3

"So what did you do with them?"

She lifted her chin as she spoke in concert with her hand. "I gave them out as freebies to anyone who signed up for the Gamers Club."

Angie raised an eyebrow from the register. "You got 144 people to sign up for discussions on video games by giving them flowers?"

She blinked several times before nodding. "Well… maybe we gave them to just anyone who passed by, _but_— we did get a few new members!"

A chuckle. "A few, huh."

"Well… maybe a couple. Give or take."

A laugh. "You mean Art intensified them into joining?"

She sighed. "Hahhh. Yeah, basically. Sadly." She finished decorating the latte and placed it on the counter before looking out the door. "I dunno how we're gonna get enough people to get the sponsorship for that comic con trip…"

Angie shrugged as she walked past her. "Maybe you need a new spokesperson?"

"Hah. Like who?"

The other barista narrowed her eyes and grinned. "Someone sexy."

Cosima brought both hands up. "Noooo. I am _not_ cosplaying, Anj."

Contrary to popular (well, Angie's) belief, being named _Cos_ima did not mean she was good at _cos_playing. No matter how much she would love to kick ass as Lara Croft or exude Daenerys Targaryen for a day.

"Fine," her friend conceded before cocking her head. "Still can't believe you just gave away all those flowers some pretty french girl went out of her way to send you though."

She snorted. "Why would I keep something some random stranger gave? Besides, it's not like I'm going to see her again."

"Really. You don't want her to come back?"

"No."

Angie placed a hand on her hip. "Then why do you keep staring at the door?"

Cosima whipped her head in the other direction and furrowed her brows. "I'm not. I was just… thinking about my research paper."

"Right. A research paper on '_who is this mystery french woman who likes to visit my shop_'."

She sent a glare down to the register. "I really don't want her to come back." She shook her head and began to pace behind the bar.

"Like who sends a bazillion flowers to someone they barely know? She's probably a complete psycho." Arms began to flail. "If she ever shows her face around here again, I'll be sure to tell her to bring her fancy—whatever—fuss elsewhere!"

The sound of heels clopping on wood and phrases of what seemed like french made her freeze. She took a deep breath and slowly looked towards her co-worker.

One lifted eyebrow on a shocked face with a half-opened smile was all it took for her to confirm it. Cosima glanced out and saw her.

Hazel eyes met hers in the morning glow. The edges of a grin on glossy red lips. Then gold locks glistening in the light as the visage whirled towards the couch seats.

She managed to close her hanging mouth as the man-nanny shot her a look, trailing behind his watch.

"You were saying, Niehaus?" Angie murmured next to her.

"What… the… _fuck_…?" she hushed behind the counter.

…

The settling seemed like an eternity. She forced herself to stop stealing glances at the window seats as she busied herself with washing random stirring spoons.

"What are you doing? Trying to find the perfect spoon?" Angie whispered, brushing past her. "Go talk to her!"

"Are you kidding me?" she hissed.

"You have to thank her at least!"  
"For _what_? Making work hell?"  
"For the _flowers_, you turd!"  
"What? No!"

"Bonjour."

She knew that voice anywhere. _Why do I know that voice anywhere? Fuck._

She composed herself as Angie scurried away. "Umm.." she swallowed, glaring at her friend's receding smirk. She faced her.

Paris Hilton was smiling. Pleasantly. At her.

"Good… morning." She managed a shaky smile. "What can I, uh… do. For you…?"

The red lips widened. "I'm glad to know to you're in a better mood today, Cosim-a."

_I hate french accents_, she tried to whimsy as the voice melted away whatever ice she had frosted together in the span of time washing spoons. She gazed at the window seat. Man-nanny was sitting on a couch, reading the paper.

"Well, I'm glad to know you can order for yourself today," she replied smugly.

The girl chuckled. "You're very cheeky. I like that."

"Mm," she nodded. "So… do you want anything?"

Hazel eyes fluttered. "Yes." They locked into hers. "I would like you to have coffee with me today."

She tilted her head and blinked. "Sorry, what…?"

"Two cafe au laits please. I will wait at my usual couch," the silky voice declared.

"Wait— is this for Frédéric?"

But the girl had already strutted towards the window.

"You haven't paid! Miss?" she blurted.

The girl had sat down at the table beside Frédéric's. An empty seat waited across from her. She pulled out a book.

Cosima looked up at the clock. _11:00AM_. At least it wasn't 10 minutes before her shift ended. What luck.

Angie appeared beside her.

"Why don't you—"

"No," she quickly announced. "I am not giving in to this.. whatever she is."

"'Whatever she is'? That's the best Cosima Niehaus, biology honor student and future doctor, can come up with?" Angie retorted, both hands on hips now. "Do the right thing, Cos. Say thank you. Don't leave her there waiting. The customer is always right."

"Geez, did you eat Bean & Cream Roasters national anthem for breakfast? I can't leave the counter, I'm working!"

"You are! You have to get her to pay, right? And don't worry, I'll cover you. Besides, Jack isn't even here today. Go!"

She shook her head and sighed. "I hate you."

Angie handed over a tray of cafe au laits and grinned. "You'll thank me for this one day, maybe."

…

She looked down sullenly at the two cups of coffee on the tray. _How did she know cafe au lait was my favorite? This is just… great._

The blonde hair was straightened a bit more today, flourishing into waves. It was pretty. Cosima cleared her throat. "Miss…?"

The girl looked up from her book and smirked. She carefully closed it. "Nice of you to join me, Cosim-a."

Cosima placed the cups on the table, keeping the tray in her hands. "I just came to tell you that you haven't paid yet. It'll be $6.47, with tax. And it's just Cosima."

The frenchwoman with the lovely hair stared at her thoughtfully before replying. "Well, 'Just Cosima', you're not living up to your name very well."

"No, it's— _Cosima_— what are you talking about?"

She placed her book on the table and continued. "After one receives a present, one should behave graciously to the giver. Even if the present was not to their liking."

Cosima's eyes widened, eyebrows arching like the rise of furies. "_You_…"

She drew a breath and took a quick scan of the shop before sliding onto the opposite couch and hunching forward.

"Look," she started, injecting her eyes into what sense the girl's pupils could accommodate. "I'm-at-work. I can't have… _coffee_… with you."

The blonde shifted her head and blinked gently, never breaking posture. "Then we'll reschedule until after your work."

"No—" she shook her head, flustered. "I have class after, and—" She blew a sigh, her hands pushing at the air in front of her in hopes that they could conjure winds that would send the girl away. "You can't—" She couldn't words. She was normally very eloquent. Maybe that was only for scientific endeavors.

"Quoi?" the girl offered, a tiny grin forming on her features.

She conceded a sigh and shot the frenchwoman an exasperated look. "You can't just walk in here and expect me to have coffee with you just because you sent me a truckload of pretty flowers!"

"So you agree, they were pretty, oui?"

"Eughh! NO."

"You know you're very pretty when you argue with me," the girl stated with a satisfied smile.

Cosima immediately felt a burn in her cheeks. _Ohmygod, I can't be_. But she was. She was blushing because the prettiest woman in the world was calling _her_ pretty - and it made her infuriated.

Her eyes flew around the shop, catching Angie's. The other barista flashed a wide grin and gave her a thumbs up. Cosima threw a look of SOS, but palms waved over the counter, motioning for her to stay. _Do the right thing. Say thank you. Even if she is distracting you from your work._

_And added more mess to your already-messy dorm._

_And forced her smile into your head instead of basic immunology._

She shook her head and ran fingers across the ridge of her brow. "Okay, Miss… look, I don't even know your name."

Frédéric twitched at the table beside them. The girl looked down. "My name."

"Yeah." A hand unraveled the bun, dreadlocks falling. If she was going to play along, she would do so with full feathers. It was her equivalent to rolling up her sleeves. "You know my name, it's only fair."

Hazel eyes met hers. "Delphine."

"Delphine," she repeated, nodding. "That's nice," she chirped. "So Delphine, what do you do? Are you a tourist? Exchange student?"

The frenchwoman with the nice name shifted slightly and kept her gaze, but remained silent.

Cosima whirled her wrist. "No, really, I'm interested, since you seem to be showing a specific interest in this shop." _I'd like to know why you choose to continue to bother me like it was your mission in life_.

"I'm a spy," she finally answered.

Cosima cackled, "You've gotta be kidding me. Are you forreal?"

Delphine simply smiled and picked up her cup. "Non."

Cosima shook her head and snorted. "Okay, you know, I don't have time for this. I just wanted to say thank you for the flowers, Delphine. It was a nice gesture - maybe a little, you know, _forward_ - but nice, nonetheless. Now, if you would please pay for your coffee, I would like to finish the rest of my shift in peace," she rambled before standing. "Please."

The blonde sighed and opened her purse, procuring a $10 bill. She lifted it towards the barista. "Keep the change."

"What, no _francs_ today?" Cosima blurted, before biting her lip at her own impertinence.

Delphine flashed another grin. "It has historical significance, it has the faces of two scientists. I thought you might like it, seeing as how you are a science student."

Cosima began to wonder if the girl really was a spy. "How did you know I studied science?"

She realized she had been too busy being annoyed to remember that the blonde was not only physically attractive, but had the loveliest voice as it spoke.

"I saw a biology textbook behind the counter. It had a sticker with your name."

She also realized why she couldn't be attracted to this girl even if she was the french mafia's daughter. _Especially_ not if she was the french mafia's daughter. And to be honest, she thought of her as a bit crazy.

"Okay, well. Please don't ever… send me flowers, or any audacious display, again. A simple 'thank you' would've been enough."

The girl smiled, but this time without smugness or cheekiness. It caught Cosima off-guard. It was gentle. Then, "Thank you, Cosima. For sitting with me."

She fell silent and looked down at her hands. "No prob," she managed, before turning to leave.

"You're not going to take your coffee?" said a breathy voice.

She gulped the swell in her throat. In another life where she didn't have to be on time to things - to work, to class, finishing her studies, her research - maybe she would've said yes to having coffee. It wasn't every day that you find the most gorgeous woman in the world asking you to sit with her. Or leaving you cute messages on coffee cup holders. Or thinking to leave you something that she held significant. Or sending you flowers… Part of her reaction was because no one had ever sent her flowers before, so she didn't know what to do.

Cosima turned back to face her. And perhaps the girl just seemed a little crazy because maybe… she never knew how to just say 'thank you' either. _I'd probably go a little crazy too if I had to be followed around everywhere by_ _a man-nanny… or is it a 'manny'?,_ she thought.

She smiled. "No, thank you."

And she was off.

_…_

"Are you alright, Madame?"

"Please, Frédéric," she brightened, fixing her purse. "I'm fine."

He folded his newspaper. "She is a feisty one."

Delphine glanced towards the baristas cleaning the counter. The girl's dreadlocks were swept up once more into a bun. The glasses framed her face quite well. Delphine found them catching.

"I like her."

"Madame? Uh—Delphine?" he began to shift.

She faced him. "Yes?"

"Forgive me, but weren't we here to help you find yourself again?"

Her eyes flickered in the light as they gazed over the science student on her way out to class. Their faces met in the space where air converses with sunbeams; a strange and beautiful suspension.

She caught herself and regained composure.

"Yes," she replied. "And I found her."

He mulled his lip. _Was this why she ran?_ "Forgive me once more…"

Her bearings glowed. "Stop with the formalities, Frédéric, go ahead. You are my only friend here."

"Well," he fumbled. A clearing of the throat. "Do you like… women?"

She contemplated the sky outside the windows.

"I like _her_," she quipped.

She stood deftly and smiled at the couches. "I think I'll start being a— how do they say.. a 'regular' around here."

"Are you sure that is a good idea?" he pondered.

"Absolument," she declared, starting towards the door, a brisk in her step.

Something energized her. She wasn't sure if it was sunbeams or quirky glasses or the promise of having coffee one day, but she wanted to be a regular. She had never been a regular at anything in her life.

She looked back to see her faithful friend taking a photo of the newspaper.

"Frédéric, what are you doing?"

He tucked away the phone and fixed his suit as he headed over.

"I might as well subscribe to the newspaper. Looks like I'll be needing something to keep me busy while I'm being a 'regular'."

...

* * *

**A/N:**_ Hello :) Just wanted to say thank you for the interest in this fic! I'd like to give a special shout out to my wonderful beta, Irma (cosimageekhaus on tumblr), as well as glynnbearboo, who has been fantastic in helping beta the first 2 chapters. Big thanks also to Sabinne (im-on-your-side-now) for encouraging this, and Shannon (shannoonie), whose love for baked goods inspired the baguettes. :)_


	4. Chapter 4

"Morning!" she called out, walking to the counter and pulling her bag sling up her shoulder.

Angie smiled at her intensely from behind the pastry display.

She shook her head and chuckled. "What?"

The wide eyes shifted to something behind her. She followed their gaze.

Sitting at the same spot by the window seats was the french woman, tending a cup of Bean & Cream and reading a book. At the table beside her, facing opposite, was Frédéric, absorbed in the pages of _The Star Tribune_.

"They've been here since opening," Angie added. "I have never seen anyone so focused on completing the daily sudoku. Or anyone sit with that kind of posture for that long. Her back must be-"

She clutched her sling. "Angie. What are they doing here?"

A shrug. "I don't know, Cos, but it looks like we've got new regulars."

"No," she clipped. "They're just here to annoy us, _that's what_."

The blonde turned to meet her gaze. Dainty hands waved a greeting, accompanied by a smug face. Cosima shook her head with a grunt and started towards the back.

"Give me an extra minute, Anj," she seethed.

"What? Why?"

"I have to get my battle face on."

...

"What did they say, Frédéric?" she gushed, trying to keep graceful, as he took off his sunglasses and faced her.

"I couldn't see the cafe girl's mouth, but her friend did say something along the lines of 'looks like we have new regulars'," he recited.

Her lips widened and she settled back properly in her seat. "Regarde. Three days and we're already regulars! Your ability to read lips is fascinating!" she laughed, bringing the cup of coffee closer to her mouth.

Frédéric raised his brows as his ward inhaled the aroma of 2-hour-cold cafe au lait. Or lack thereof.

"Mm," she nodded, setting the drink back on the table. "Délicieux!"

"Yes..." he trailed off before returning to the penciled numbers on his paper. At least this puzzle was something he could solve.

...

Eyes closed, she inhaled deeply and shook her locks, an attempt to clear the head. She crouched by her locker and stared at a photo of 4 girls taped to the side; a younger her, before the dreads, the twins... and her arm wrapped around the eldest, who was smiling with her newly dyed pixie cut.

Their mother never approved of it but Cosima always thought it was cool.

_We look so alike that I just wanted a new hair style to feel different_, her sister would joke.

_We look alike_ _because we're sisters, Kat!_ she would then reply.

_Mom doesn't like it, but it helps me feel more like... me._

_Well, I think it's pretty rad._

_You always think I'm rad, little Cos. But you're definitely the coolest one,_ Kat would say, before taking off her oversized shades and propping them over Cosima's glasses_._ _And someday, you're going to be a brilliant scientist._

Cosima would then scrunch her face and make the sign with her fingers that Kat would always make. _You mean rock and roll?_

Kat would smile and lift her sign up. _Rock and roll_, she would say.

"You alright there, Niehaus?"

She looked up and saw Jack lifting a brow from behind the bakery line.

"Uhh." She shoved her bag inside and threw on her apron. "Yeah," she nodded with a plastered smile.

"Is it that blonde girl by the window?" he inquired.

She stopped in her tracks. "Um.. sorry?"

"She's the one who sent those bridal flowers, isn't she?"

"Um," she fumbled, her cheeks tinged. **_Not_** _bridal flowers_. Apparently, Angie wasn't the only one who'd been noticing the change in her behavior whenever their new customers would drop by. "Yeah. Sorry again about that."

"Hm," he mused. "As long as she won't distract you from your work."

"What? No, Jack, we're not- _anything_-"

But her boss had already gone back to oversee the kitchen employees.

_Fuck_. She needed to find a way to make it clear that nothing was happening between her and this girl, and that she wasn't being affected by her presence.

She needed to get her focus back.

...

Frédéric turned back towards her. "I don't think she's going to come over, Madame."

She took in a breath, her eyes roving in stares from the girl behind the counter to the lonely filled drink that sat across from her empty cup.

When it seemed that the barista would continue to ignore her invitation, she moved to gather her things and sighed. "I can't believe she's ignoring me. Incroyable.."

He closed his paper. "Perhaps I can find you a different café.. with more amiable employees, oui?"

"Non," she replied, looking up towards the counter with a flicker of pupils. "No one has ever ignored me before - she will not be the first."

"But Madame-"

A wave of a hand. "Oh, it is just a coffee, Frédéric."

She stood and made her way to the door. "We try again tomorrow."

...

_Maybe she_ _finally gets it,_ she mused while washing utensils and watching as the blonde sashayed out the door without so much as a farewell glance.

It had been a long while since Cosima smiled as she finished the rest of her shift.

She had forgotten the smirk her lips subconsciously formed when the frenchwoman had first asked her to coffee.

By the time she left for campus, the coffee cup holder with the script, _Would you like to have coffee with me today?_, was thrown into the recycling bin.

...

Unfortunately, the newly-fleshed smile did not last very long.

The blonde was back two days later at Cosima's next shift, sitting at the window seat, this time writing in a leather-bound journal.

_Probably her secret plans for world domination_, she concluded as she frowned and shook her head on the way to the kitchen.

"Niehaus!"

She turned towards the rumbling. "Morning, Jack!"

He shuffled towards her, hands on his hips.

"Is, uh.. everything okay?" she asked, almost a squeak.

He grunted and nodded slowly. "That blonde is nice."

She blinked in confusion, wondering what in the hell was happening. "Sorry..?"

She surmised that Delphine's plan for world domination was in effect, and that the girl had somehow managed to infiltrate her boss' drink with the happy juice.

Jack continued to nod. "Tell her 'thank you'," he motioned, before going back to the kitchen.

She never pegged Jack as a big ol' sap. Perhaps it was the flowers. _No, it was definitely the happy juice_.

"Thank you for what?" she called out after him.

He turned towards her once more and answered, "She paid for all the customers in the shop today."

"WHAT," she blurted.

"Yeah," he laughed, then winked. "She's a keeper."

Cosima felt like smacking herself in the face.

...

"You let her pay for _everyone_?"

Angie shrugged, "She insisted! What was I supposed to say?"

Cosima tightened her jaw and hung her head.

A hand reached out to hold her shoulder. "Hey, hey... Cos, she's doing nothing wrong. We can't just kick her out."

She scowled at her fellow barista. "What, are you on her side now?"

Angie sighed and tilted her head. "No, Cos. You don't have to talk to her, just don't let her get to you."

Cosima took a deep breath and nodded.

She proceeded to ignore the coffee cup holders that would be left by the register_._

_..._

However, this was easier thought than done. The girl continued to show up at Bean & Cream, and by the end of the week, she and Frédéric had managed to sample the entire pastry collection.

It had been 7 times since the dastardly duo had first stepped foot in the little coffee shop around the corner, and 3 times since they became popular with the patrons for buying everyone coffee during the morning shift.

People began flocking to the little café for the free morning coffee giveaway. As much as Cosima hated to admit, their customer draw had increased more in that one week than the opening week of university classes. And even if the people got their drinks for free, it was all paid for by a "regular" at Bean & Cream who just wanted to show her appreciation for her "favorite café".

She rolled her eyes at Jack's idea to put that slogan on the chalkboard outside the door.

"You gotta admit, Cos.. your girl is persistent."

"No. She's _not_ my girl, Anj. Stop," she grumbled.

Angie lifted up that day's coffee cup holder. "'_Have coffee with me?_' She only comes here for _you_."

Cosima took the paper and flung it down the recycling bin. "And I don't know why. I've ignored her every time."

"She _likes_ you, Cos."

She sighed and leaned against the counter. "Well, I don't like her."

"I don't think she's getting the message."

She faced her co-worker. "What do you want me to do?"

A new cup holder was slapped down beside her. "Maybe she wants it written down."

She snorted and looked over to the window seats, catching the blonde's eyes.

Sometimes she felt bad for her. What happened to this girl that Cosima Niehaus was the only option? What happened to this girl that she had nothing better to do every other morning than camp out at some cafe in Minnesota with a bodyguard who liked sudoku and crosswords?

She took off her apron and wiped her hands. "Anj, cover me for a sec?"

"Where are you going?"

She walked from behind the bar, her face focused. "I'm going to find out.."

Angie lifted an eyebrow. "What..?"

_Who she is_, Cosima replied in her mind.

...

She slowly lifted her chin at the sight of dreadlocks swishing towards her. She grinned.

_Finally._

"Bonjour, Cosima," she sang as the girl glanced around before sitting at the couch opposite hers.

"Hi," the girl answered curtly.

Delphine opened her palm towards the drink in front of her new companion. "Would you care for some coffee today?"

The girl with the glasses drew out a breath and met her gaze. "No, Delphine."

She shifted her head and gave a small smile. At least the barista was sitting with her. "What would it take for you to have a coffee with me?"

Cosima leaned back. "You tell me who you really are, and what you're doing in Minnesota."

Hazel eyes narrowed. "That's a little personal, isn't it?"

"Well, you're turning my workplace into something personal, like it's just a game for you," she quickly responded with a glare.

Delphine was taken aback though her features did not show it.

"Look," the voice began to tremble. "I asked you for no more gestures, and yet you come back giving out freebies to all our customers like you mean to ignore me when I say no. Maybe other people might find it sweet - hell, even _romantic _- but I'm not one of those people, Delphine. I don't have money to blow around sending gifts to strangers, I barely have enough right now to buy a new pair of bed sheets that don't have freaking monkeys on them!" she strained.

Delphine cautiously glimpsed out the window, wondering what the real purpose had been all this time. Had she forgotten herself in the neverending fight to finally get her way? Was that what all of this - coffee and baguettes and flowers - was really about? A game?

She gazed back to the student with the locks in her hair and the quirky eyeglasses, a silent plea for the truth from anyone but herself.

The girl's eyebrows quivered for but a second. _In concern? In confusion?_ She couldn't tell.

Delphine blinked in rapid succession, somewhat hoping that she could hide behind her own lids.

"Non," she struggled - because for the first time, she was being beaten at her own game. _Yes, it had been just a game_, she admitted to herself. And running away had always been the ticket to the escape pod, except now, she couldn't.

_But why?_

Cosima did not let her get away with her silence. "No what? Not all of us were born with a silver plate and people to spoonfeed us. I had to work my way to get to where I am, and you are not about to ruin all of that for a _cup of coffee!_"

Frédéric immediately stood to confront them, alarming the surrounding patrons, but Delphine shot him a look that made him stop and turn awkwardly to the professor looking up from his papers and say, "Eh.. pardon - le toilette..", before marching away.

Delphine dropped her gaze as she drowned in thoughts. She could simply stand and walk out, never to return. They could always go somewhere else, and Frédéric would always be there to cover her.

But when she looked up at the eyes staring intensely into hers, a golden brown that shimmered in the light, almost the same colors that stared back at her every day in the mirror when she would forget herself, she knew why.

Before she noticed it, the words "I'm sorry" had escaped from her mouth.

She breathed slowly at the realization, keeping as much composure as she could muster.

After a beat of gathering her own self at the blonde's surprise apology, Cosima treaded forward. "So will you please leave me alone now?"

Delphine made a motion of shaking the curls in her hair as she searched for the words that would make it better, but all that managed to come out was a "Non".

_Merde_. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she leave this girl alone?

"Why?" Cosima echoed aloud.

Delphine bit her lip and mumbled, "Parce que.."

She scanned the café, looking for support - for stability, for courage. She found Frédéric, now creasing his brows at her, his ear attached to his cellphone.

She had to learn how to handle things by herself. She had to find her own courage.

_That's why she was here._

To be as brave as the brunette in front of her.

She veered forward, then tentatively reached a hand across the table, fingers like feathers floating in the wind, setting down lightly on the girl's hand.

Cosima's eyes widened, but she didn't pull away, not yet.

Delphine kept hers on their hands as she slid her fingers down the java-stained skin, daring to caress. Out of the corner of her view, Frédéric spoke into the phone and started to walk towards her.

She knew what the look on his face meant.

_No, not right now, Frédéric_.

"Parce que.." she breathed, finally flickering up to the eyes that screamed a thousand questions. She needed to get this out. So she answered, "I like you.. Cosima."

And it was like time froze and hung heavy for the few moments of truth that lingered in the air between them, just like the day she discovered sunbeams. The only distraction a distant _Madame_ that she could barely make out.

The girl with the glasses finally let out the shaky trappings in her throat, her lips shivering with the wonders in her gape, as she pulled the hand away to cradle against her lap. She thought as much, but she didn't think the blonde was serious. _Was she?_

Frédéric covered the receiver on his chest as he called out another "Madame!"

She was not listening. He brought the phone back up and offered another, "Oui, Monsieur. S'il vous plaît pardonnez-moi pour la réponse tardive-", striding over with another attempt. "Delphine!"

"Who are you?" Cosima whispered.

"Princesse!" a voice broke through the fragile air. "Votre père veut parler avec vous!"

Delphine was as still as stained glass as she rendered a defeated glare up to Frédéric, who had just grasped what he had revealed, the cellphone clinging to his chest. She swallowed the confessions of the day and held the eyes within the glasses.

Cosima's mouth hung open as she shook her head. "_Princess?_"

She blinked fervently before moving to fix herself. "I'm sorry..." she said.

The barista couldn't believe it. _What kind of game is this?_

"Is that a nickname? As far as I know, France doesn't have a monarchy anymore."

Delphine shouldered her purse and replied, "There isn't. But there are descendants to the French kings - claimants. Though we do not have any ruling power, we are.. recognized."

She stood and looked with strange dejection at the girl she had found at a coffee shop. "Forgive me. We won't be bothering you anymore."

And then she had gone, as interestingly as she had arrived, leaving Cosima with nothing but a cold cup of coffee and the feel of smooth fingers swirling fairy tales on her wrist.

...

* * *

**A/N:** Would just like to thank you guys for your lovely reviews and to wish a belated happy birthday to "birthday babe". I'm glad you enjoyed this! And, yes, it was - thanks for spotting my little shout out to IM&Y in chapter 2! As always, lots of love to my betas, Irma (itsirmster on FFnet!) and glynnbearboo. :)


	5. Chapter 5

_I've never seen a diamond in the flesh_

_But everybody's like Cristal, Maybach, diamonds on your timepiece_

"You've gotta be kidding me..." she muttered, closing the door behind her and walking up to the register.

Angie greeted her with a grin as she swayed behind the counter, humming.

She dropped her bag and called out, "Why is this song on?"

Her fellow barista faced her in time with the beat and sang, "And we'll never be royaaaals!"

"Are you shitting me."

Angie stopped and pulled the bag up from the floor, handing it over. "Sorry. It was, uh... Jack's idea."

"Great," she sighed, trudging towards the kitchen and wondering if the stars had took a wrong turn in misalignment as _We don't care, we aren't caught up in your love affair_ trailed after her ears.

...

Three shifts later and the French woman had not returned. No flowers, coffee invitations, or displays of communication. The sign on the chalkboard had been erased. Jack had stopped playing top radio hits, the playlist returning to a mix of indie songwriters.

Cosima wondered if Delphine had actually stayed true to her word. She looked at the coffee cup sleeve dispenser and pulled one out.

Clean. Empty.

_What am I looking for?_

"Everything is back to normal..." she mumbled, to no one in particular.

"Do you miss it?"

She whirled around to find Angie closing the pastry display, the fresh stock of baguettes laying undisturbed.

"Miss what?" she replied, an attempt at nonchalance.

A sigh and a shrug of the shoulders. "How things were."

"Hm," she nodded, turning her back and looking down, the question of _when?_ being the reply she really wanted to utter. _How things were when? Before her? After..?_

"Do you miss her?"

Cosima glanced up and blinked.

"No," she answered before walking off to clean the tables.

...

She closed the door behind her and let the bag slide off her shoulder. Plodding over the books laying on the floor, she shrugged off her coat and flung it onto the bed.

She heaved a sigh as she slumped into the swivel chair and spun herself towards the desk. She opened the top drawer.

A piece of brown paper stuck out under the conglomeration of folders and receipts. She pried it out and turned it over in her hand.

_For the girl with the locks in her hair and the sad smile. Cheer up._

There was a flicker of the lip before she pressed the creases open, a folded bill falling out onto the wood. She unfolded it to reveal the two scientists, Pierre and Marie Curie, known for their discoveries of polonium and radium, and their research on radioactivity.

She'd finally looked it up.

Two highly radioactive elements; dangerous yet profound. Their discoveries back in the day paved new knowledge on protection from exposure, as well as new ways to diagnose diseases and to date natural materials - radioactive dating - allowing the deduction of the age of the earth itself.

Basically a new way to see. An illumination of the core.

Except that radioactivity was the process of losing particles. You had to lose them to emit the light, to see.

But Cosima didn't want to lose herself yet. She had a vision and she had made a promise to a dying girl in a pixie cut.

_If only there was a 'dating technique' without decay_, she thought.

She took in a breath and typed in the search box. The Curies were going for $100+ on eBay.

They _were_ worth something. And not even that, they _meant_ something. They were… special.

She placed the bill down and spun around to face her dresser. Two flowers; a white lily and a blue iris, napped in a plastic vase.

Yes, she didn't tell Art or Angie, but she'd kept two - one of each. No one had ever given her flowers before.

Frankly, she never understood them. She could understand the scientific implications of radioactivity, but damned if she could understand the poetry of flowers.

All she knew was that they hummed to her at times, in the silence. Like an invitation.

She blew out a breath.

It seemed everything the girl did had meaning. That Delphine had meant everything she did, everything she said.

_I like you._

Cosima suddenly felt a weight in her chest, because... maybe... _maybe_ she _did_ like the mysterious French woman back.

And maybe...

She would never see her again.

...

She brought the phone up to her ears, a contorted visage as she huffed out the cold air, her heels quickly clopping down the sidewalk.

_Oui, Papa?_

_Delphine, que faites-tu?_

Her breath whirled like dragon smoke in front of her, dissipating to clear the way for the words _Bean & Cream Roasters_ down the block. She turned back to the sound of a car door opening beside her.

Frédéric held the door open and nodded, but she did not enter.

_What are you talking about, Papa?_

A slight grunt made its way through the receiver. She could picture him shaking his head at the other end.

_I thought you had ordered everything you needed for your condominium?_

Frédéric fidgeted by the sedan door. She waved him off and paced the sidewalk.

_I have._

And somehow she could feel the rumbling from the other side of the Atlantic.

_Then why is there an order for_ _- c'est quoi - 1-800-FLOWERS-_

_Oui, Papa-_

_Of 'What A Girl Wants Expressions of Europe to Dazzle Her Day' bouquets.._ _mon dieu, for 2,000 american dollars?_

When she thought about it that way, it did seem a bit extravagant. She stifled a nervous chuckle.

_Oui, eh.. I am a girl, and it is what I wanted-_

_Et.. $2,000+ every other day for a 'Bean & Cream Roasters'? What on earth kind of coffee do they sell there that you would spend $2,000 in one day?_

_Eh, Papa.._

She was at a loss for words. For one, she couldn't believe he had been going through her credit records. But then again, it was never her money but the family's - her father's. It would definitely have shown up in the accounts.

_Delphine,_ _ma chère... this is madness. When you asked to find yourself, I thought you would start anew. Not this..._

For another, it put a new perspective on her recent actions. Maybe she _was_ a fool. Maybe she had always been a fool to think it would be any different here in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

The girl probably saw right through her.

She hung her head.

_Je suis désolée, Papa_..

She turned back to Frédéric, who was now standing awkwardly, yet always patient, beside the Lincoln town car. He offered her a smile.

_Do you want to come home, Delphine?_

_No, Papa. Not yet. I'll fix this - it won't happen again._

There was a sigh at the other end. _This is the final straw, ma chère. No more games, s'il te plait._

_Oui, Papa._

Who was she kidding?

She trudged towards the car and handed the phone back to her bodyguard. She slid into the back seat, the door closing behind her.

No more games. That was the problem.

Delphine just wanted to be able to be happy for once. To be free. To play games.

_Princess? _

She remembered the appalled expression on the barista's face, and then the reservations in her manner after the confession.

She realized she would always be treated as such and would always be expected to act as such. She couldn't run away. She couldn't play games.

_Madame?_ Frédéric's eye caught hers in the rearview mirror.

She sighed. _À la condominium, Frédéric._

_Oui, Madame._

The engine started. She opened her purse and took out her journal.

It was time to figure out.. how to grow up. How to take responsibility.

She glanced at the last written page.

_Day 7 at the coffee shop around the corner_

_- Cosima likes_ _electronic music_

_- Her face scrunches when she focuses on something_

_- She doesn't like to be disturbed when she focuses on something_

_- The strawberry shortcake est glorieux!_

_- Cosima likes the twisted donut pastries_

- _Son nom est merveilleux_

_- What am I doing here?_

_- Why am I fascinated?_

She scanned down to the bottom.

_- Tell her you like her_

That didn't go so well.

It had always gone well for her before. Why this girl?

It must be a sign.

She gulped the ache in her throat and jotted down her final entry for _Day 7_.

_- She doesn't like you back_

She took in a breath and flipped to a fresh page. She wrote.

_How to forget._

Her musings continued as she thought about how to be who she was supposed to be, the signage of the little coffee shop disappearing over the horizon of her rear window.

...

She closed the books and pushed them to the edge of the table. _Cosima Niehaus_ stickers faced her on the spines of _Campbell Biology_ and _Genetics: A Conceptual Approach_.

"You alright?"

She looked up and nodded at the boy hovering over the pages of _Forensic Psychology_.

"Yeah, um. Just needed a break," she chuckled, picking at her salad.

"Didn't know the Nerdturd got tired," he smirked. "Bean & Cream wearing you out?"

She looked out at the food court, students clamoring about with trays of Chick fil A and Panda Express, chatting over tables, and last minute readings under the afternoon brew.

She wondered why she and Art always chose to read there and not at a quieter place on campus.

"I shouldn't have waited until senior year to do a humanities elective," she muttered.

He closed his book and turned back to his sandwich. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head and twitched her lips. "I have to write some insane paper on the Spanish Inquisition - and you know how bad I am things like that, and.." She flicked her hands towards the textbooks on the table. "It's totally messing up my concentration for the research program."

Art glanced over and saw the creased lines on his friend's forehead. "Can you drop it? The research?"

"Dr. Chadwick would kill me. I've already been on his team for a year, I can't just leave now, man."

He mulled his lip. "You know, you don't have to work yourself so hard, Cos. You're gonna get an interview for Columbia."

Cosima snorted. "I haven't even received an invite yet."

"Well, something's been stressing you out," he stated. "You can take a break from Bean and Gamers Club-"

Her dreads shook as she answered. "Art, I can't. You know I don't-"

"You don't go back on your word, yeah, yeah, I know. But sometimes you gotta look out for yourself too. I won't always be there to have your back," he finished.

She made a face and catapulted a piece of lettuce at him. "Bitchass! Leaving me for criminal law!"

He placed the vegetable bomb onto his tray and laughed. "Hey, hey! If I didn't have all this shit to do, you know I'd help you out with your present Inquisition."

"Ha. You're totes funny, man. Ha ha," she grumbled with a smile while fixing her tray. "I gotta run before I miss the damn class."

What Cosima didn't admit to her friend, however, was the constant gnaw at the back of her heart.

That what really was messing her up lately was not her busy academic schedule... but something that no longer filled the any of the hours of her day.

...

She opened the door and surveyed the room.

Late, as usual, but not _too _late.

Professor Moore was still setting her bag on the front desk, a TA helping with the powerpoint clicker.

Cosima slid into the always unoccupied side seats in the back. Running late from lunch, she didn't really have a choice with the seat selections. It wasn't as optimum for learning with its slightly constricted view, but for this class, she didn't mind as much.

Don't take her the wrong way - Professor Moore was an excellent teacher, and the class seemed very engaged in the lectures, but let's just say Humanities/Classics 1005 was not her favorite subject. It was almost as boring as Origins of Justice - but at least they were talking about Galileo and other fathers of modern science for now.

Still. It wasn't science itself.

It was science held under an _inquisition_.

Another reason why she didn't mind the back row at the top of the small lecture room's steps: she could work on catching up with that damn paper without being seen. Or just catching up with more important matters in general.

"Good afternoon, everyone. Today we will be finishing our introduction to Galileo as part of the 'Renaissance Man' ideal. That means next week we'll be focusing on the Renaissance itself. So expect some paper assignments."

Cosima hung her head at the news. More papers. On history.

Rad.

_Radiculous._

She ducked to her bag to rummage for _The Humanities in Western Culture, Vol. 2_ when the Professor continued her introductions to Galileo.

"So this young woman is..."

Cosima scrunched her forehead and chuckled as she brought her book up to her desk. _Oh, professors on happy juice. _Out of all the things she had trouble with in humanities, she was pretty sure Galileo was not a young woman.

She grinned and looked up to the front.

The grin fell from her face.

Standing beside the TA, waiting and stealing glances around the room as the professor scanned through the letter in her hands, was a young woman.

_Impeccably-styled blonde curls, pursed red lips, and pretty eyes to complete a pretty face._

Hazel eyes met hers, the same eyes that had stained themselves in the front lobe of her brain in the past weeks.

"Delphine Beraud is one of our new foreign students, a late enrollee. You have a lot to catch up on, Ms. Beraud."

Delphine Beraud, French princess, gracefully accepted the challenge and walked towards the top of the lecture room, her eyes never wavering from Cosima's as she moved, elegant as ever and turning a few heads along the way, until she slid into the empty seat at the back row beside the girl with the glasses and the locks in her hair.

Cosima was at a loss for words. She was still trying to catch her breath as her heart pulsed erratically at the girl beside her who calmly opened her _Vol. 2_ text and sat with the essence of sanguinity.

"_How_.." she squeaked.

The lovely blonde curls spun, those wonderful cheekbones facing her - Cosima could _smell_ her perfume.

The girl smiled.

"I've settled it with the Dean," she simply said, glimpsing into Cosima's eyes.

It was only for maybe two seconds, but it seemed to encompass the entirety of their glances at that little coffee shop across from campus.

Delphine turned back to the lecture as Professor Moore continued, leaving Cosima to wonder about the radioactivity of the atoms in her skin and her insides as they ignited in the close proximity of her new classmate.

One thing was for sure.

She was at a high risk for failing in Humanities/Classics 1005.

Or was it _falling_…?

* * *

**A/N:** _Thank you for reading and for your comments! For the guest reviewers: Yes, there will be more chapters! As for the french, I usually try not to use too much (as I don't know it well either - it's all thanks to my beta, _itsirmster_, who corrects my google-translated french), but the bits I use will hopefully stay simple, or they're meant to be understood as how Cosima might understand it (or be confused by it). I'll try to provide translations for the new phrases though, so I'll go back and fix those as well. :)_

_que faites-tu? = what are you doing? | c'est quoi = what is this | je suis désolée = i'm sorry | s'il te plait = please | s__on nom est merveilleux = her name is wonderful_


	6. Chapter 6

"What are you gonna do?"

She released a gruff sigh as she threw her head back, eyes to the blue skies. Clasping her hands behind her nape, she brought it back to stare over the table and out onto the campus green. Students mingled around on the footpaths, heading to lectures, heading to dorms, chatting, sitting on the grass playing poker or strumming a guitar - going on with their normal college lives.

What she wouldn't give to just be normal again. Yesterday seemed like a dream; the blonde with the golden hair, the captivation of her perfume, of her presence. Cosima thought she would implode with atomic burn. She wondered how she managed to stay silent and still throughout the lecture.

An hour of glorious torture.

Galileo's heliocentrism fueling the thawing revolution of her around the sun that was Princess Delphine Beraud. How controversial indeed for her frozen little earth.

A fucking _princess_. What even.

And the girl didn't even talk. She continued to sit with such composure.

Cosima didn't know how to deal with fairy tales. All she knew was the daily grind and what was _real_— this girl _couldn't_ be— so she snatched her bag at the hour and disappeared with the fury of a thousand raptures.

"I dunno, man," she quipped, facing her partner in crime, who also served as club secretary (though _club bouncer_ was probably the more appropriate term).

He lifted an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you just walked out of that classroom without talking to her?"

She shook her dreads. "And what would I have said?"

He chuckled. "Uhh.. 'why do you like me so much?' - I dunno - get _evidence_!"

"Evidence for what?" She narrowed her eyes.

He widened his expression. "As to what a person of royal blood would be doing in our neck of the Minnesotan woods."

She mulled her lip and focused on the papers facing her. "I can't just go up and ask her that. We're not tight, Art. Obvs."

Students continued their daily swarm. Some even passed by the row of tables set up for the yearly Club Fair. Unfortunately, they all passed by the one with the banner entitled _Gamers Club!_

She picked up the membership signup form. It was mostly blank.

_At least some things never change_.

"And I don't have time for that. I have _this_—" She flicked a hand at the sheet, then waved it to the air. "And all of - _senior year_ - to handle! Kenneth, where are we with the funds?"

She turned back to her club secretary who nodded and flipped open his laptop on the grass behind the table. After a furious crusade with the keyboard, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and squinted into the screen, reciting.

"Well, at the initial value of 5 renewing memberships to make $300 and our hopeful final minimum value of 30 for $1800, the logarithmic return—"

"Kenneth."

He glanced up, his black hair spiked with gel. "What?"

She shook her head. "This isn't the stock market. Just give me the amount."

"Yes, Khaleesi. It's.."  
"Kenneth."  
"Yes?"  
"Stop with the khaleesi."  
"But you're president, it's fitting!"  
"Kenneth, buddy, we don't have the funds yet for comic con, there will _be no khaleesi_ if the fundraiser won't be successful."  
"…10,000. We're still short $10,000."

"Great," she muttered, slumping into her chair.

"Bien, looks like you need help, oui?"

They turned to the voice that sang out in the breeze.

And just like that, there she was, walking towards them. Always appearing in the light.

_This isn't some goddamn chick flick!_

Art leaned over and whispered, "She's like a goddamn chick flick! You know when the girl appe—"

"Art!" she barked.  
"And music plays and angels fly out of her ass—"

She shoved him away.

"What? I'm just saying she's _really_ pretty!" he quipped in a hush before curling his lip and crossing his arms.  
"_Not in front of her!_" she hissed back.

"Oh, sorry, am I.. interrupting something?"

They looked up to see the French royal, Delphine Beraud, standing in front of the table; poised, her blonde curls glistening in the afternoon sun.

Art flashed a smile. "Oh, not at all.. Miss? Your Highness— uh."

The blonde's eyes met with Cosima's.

"Uh, we're fine—" she babbled.

Her partner stood abruptly. "I'm sorry, you know, I have a— uh— _class_ to go to, yeah. Kenneth, you too."

The Asian student quirked his eyebrows, his glasses sliding down again. "But I don't have class—"  
Art lifted his brows. "Yeah, you do."

Kenneth scanned the puzzled face of Khaleesi and the quizzical lips of the pretty blonde student. "Oh. OH. Yes! I don't have class.. _with you_ today.. but I have, yes!"

And then there were two.

"Étrange, that they just left like that," Delphine mused.

"Totally.. weird.." _I hate you all_. Cosima buried her eyes into the paper, hoping to find a distraction. The girl did not make a motion to leave.

She finally spoke. "So, you've told them about me."

As much as Cosima had found herself speechless and infuriated at the brazenness the frenchwoman had shown in their past meetings, a fondness had also grown towards her. As Angie had put it, the girl _was_ persistent.

Cosima wanted to know why. If anything, to understand the reasons as to why her presence had found itself in an undergraduate program at the University of Minnesota out of every other possible location in the world. If anything, so that the biology student could understand why she needed to know these things herself in order to survive the machinations of her own physiology that were reacting to the new student's presence, so that she might come out of this year unscathed.

Or, at the least, intact.

Another twinge gnawed itself at the back of her mind at the thought that Art might've been right. She'd been acting like a loony. She needed to get a grip before all logic had left her.

"Uh.. yeah," she replied, forcing herself to meet the blonde's gaze.

Two pairs of hazel eyes met again that morning, but there was something different in one of them, causing an accommodation in the other.

"I'm sorry about that," Cosima added softly. "I won't—"

"It's okay," the girl breathed. A pause. She turned to look out at the green, a breeze playing through her curls. It was then Cosima concluded that, had she actually been whisked away in a thousand raptures, the wind would have brought her a thousand times back through Delphine Beraud's magnificent hair.

_Art was definitely on to something_…

"I have to get used to it anyway," the girl added, facing the table once more.

"Mm," Cosima replied, crossing her arms. _Find out why she has come like an episode of Touched By An Angel, or_ **_how_** _she manages to be so flawless_. _Or disguised herself to like you so that she could carry out her plans of world domination._

**_Like_**_._

_?_

_No way._

A sullen chuckle. "What are you doing here?"

Delphine furrowed her brows. "What do you mean? I go to school here."

"No, um.." Cosima leaned back in her chair and waved an arm out in diminutive frustration. "Like you, popping out of nowhere like Javert or something… like you can sense distress. Or stolen bread."

The blonde suppressed a snort. "Oui, I can sense the baguettes on you."

A laugh. "I didn't have a shift at Bean today, Frenchie."

"Hm," Delphine smirked at the nickname. "I know you didn't."

Cosima looked her in the eyes. "Yes. How _do_ you know that? How did you know I was in Classics 1005 under Professor Moore?"

The girl shrugged daintily, her shoulders buoyed under the weight of her textbook. "I didn't. Luck, I guess."

"Yeah, right," the club leader blew into in the air as she stood and began fixing her papers.

"I really didn't," the frenchwoman assured, the lines on her forehead creasing.

Cosima planted both hands on the table and leaned forward. "And how can I be sure of that, Delphine? I remember when I asked you for the first time what you were doing at the coffee shop, you said - you know what you said?" A snort. "'_I'm a spy_'. Yeah. And now you show up - and in the class I've been having trouble in - to what? Cause me even more misery and possibly screw over my medical school application?"

_Why was she always fighting with her?_ _Perhaps there was a better way._

But she didn't have time to figure it out today.

Delphine breathed and replied with gentle candor. "I'm not playing games anymore, Cosima. I'm sorry for the trouble I have caused - and I want to help you."

The girl with the dreadlocks grumbled, but met the hazel stare. "And why would you want to do that?"

A fair hand reached out toward her arm. "To make it up to you."

She quavered at the touch, disguising a gulp with a chuckle. "Delphine…"

Finely-shaped brows softened. "Have coffee with me?"

She took in a breath and blinked rapidly before moving away to stuff the folders into her satchel.

"See you in class, Delphine."

…

He glanced at the rear view mirror. She wasn't writing in her journal like she had been doing after lectures. There was a crease at the edge of her temple. Eyes stared, listless, out the window.

"Bad day, Madame?"

Her disposition remained unchanged as she spoke. "Non, Frédéric, eh…" She faced the mirror with reluctance. "C'était tu, n'est-ce pas?"

"Pardonnez-moi?"

She scrutinized the countenance in front of her as he continued to drive. "Did you enroll me in Classics 1005?"

He conveyed a quick look through the mirror. "Oui, Madame. I enrolled you in all of your courses, as you asked. Pourquoi?"

She skimmed fingers across her lips. It wasn't that she didn't want it, but, "Did you know Cosima was in that class?"

After a pause and a turn on the wheel, he replied. "Non."

After another pause, he added, "Is she a problem?"

"And what would you do if I said she was?" she wondered.

"I would do what's in your best interest, Madame. As I've always done."

_What if the world has conspired to bring us together?_ she mused. _What if_ **_you_** _are my best interest?_

She smiled with the weight of grey clouds. _But what if you don't think I am?_

_I would still make it up to you_. She had said so, and she was raised to keep her word.

"I wonder why she's so fascinating, Frédéric…" she mumbled as she looked up to the darkening skies. Funny how quickly the weather had changed that day.

"May I speak my mind?" the bodyguard quipped.

She turned back towards him and nodded. "You're always welcome to, mon ami."

"Bien.." he started. "I see it like, eh.. the Greek gods being so fascinated with the mortality of humans because they've only ever known Olympus and are amazed by the strange passions humans have because of their limited existence."

She laughed. "Sensationnel! Where do you get these ideas, Frédéric?"

He gave a nostalgic smile as he thought back to his younger days in France as a boy. Of a flaxen-haired Athena at the Academy. But these he kept to himself, like he did many things eventually in his profession. _For their best interests_, he pledged. _Even if I am not a part of it_.

He glimpsed at the questioning cheer on his ward's face through the mirror, waiting.

He answered, "I solved my crossword puzzle today. It was there."

Delphine giggled. Greek gods were stretching it a bit, it was too unequal. But she realized, ever since that first day at Bean & Cream Roasters, she'd always find herself looking for her. Cosima. Maybe like being underwater all her life and finally seeing what the sun and the sky looked like - the light through those eyeglasses, the wind in her locks.

"Bien," she composed. A thought came to her as droplets began to appear on the windows. "Au shopping center, Frédéric."

A silence in hesitation. "Are you sure? It's going to pour, Madame."

"_Delphine_, s'il te plait," she advocated. "Et, oui, I am sure."

_Bring on the rain_, she roused.

…

She trudged down the hallway, shoulder aching from a day's weight of books and notes, burdenings.

Had she been too mean? What was the harm in one cup of coffee?

_Everything that comes with her position_, she concluded. Limousines, bodyguards, special letters from the Dean, $2000 worth of coffee.. that wasn't Cosima. Their lives were too different.

"Niehaus," the attendant called out as she rounded the front desk. "Package for you."

She walked up with perplexed brows. It was too early for a care package from home, but maybe the twins had found some interesting effects that'd remind her of the farm. She reached out to a box the size of an all-in-one encyclopedia.

"Thanks!" she chuckled, heading towards the elevator to resume her thoughts.

She was sure there was something the frenchwoman was hiding. No one of her status would be all the way over there without business or a secret they were running from, and as far as Cosima knew, Delphine had been spending most of her time on her own fancy, with no hint of business.

_What if she was running from the _**_mafia_**_?_

Cosima did not want in on any of that.

She asserted her earlier actions and congratulated herself on being straightforward and unbending to the whims of one very interesting and attractive French princess.

Closing the door behind her, she dropped her satchel and placed the curious box on her bed. After flinging her coat towards her chair, she grabbed a pair of scissors and sidled next to the package.

No return address.

_Weird_.

She began to acquire a strange feeling. The same one that came to her on certain mornings at the coffee shop when the light shone through the windows such that the shadows of the leaves outside danced and waved on the floor, and she could almost hear the music of her imagined future.

Wrapping paper.

_A present?_

She sifted underneath to find a set of crimson bedsheets. A small grin began to form at the edges of her mouth.

She ran her hands through them and relished in the lush cotton. It must've been a high thread count.

_How did they know?_

Giddiness swept through her as she lifted it out of the box and separated the pillow covers. _Wow_. She flung out the sheet, marveling in the waves of vibrant red that flourished over her bed. It was perfect.

A flash of white fell to the floor.

She kneeled to pick up the paper and flipped it over in her hands. Her eyes blinked a few times, focusing on the note, as she drew in a shaky breath, her lips trembling into a smile.

_For the girl in the glasses with the beautiful smile, my sincerest apologies. Truth no.1: I never realized how impertinent I could be, and I am trying every day now to make up for it._

_Your classmate,_  
_Delphine_

…

_Your classmate_.

"She signed it that?" Angie asked the following morning.

"Yeah," the barista replied. Had she been too mean to her new _classmate_?

Angie smiled.

"What?"

"She's sweet, Cos," her co-worker answered. "She's trying. Maybe you should try to be nice this time?"

"Maybe," Cosima thought aloud.

Angie shrugged. "Maybe she's just trying to be your friend."

A flurry of eyelashes beckoned through reasonings. "Maybe."

She didn't know yet if that was what she wanted, or the truth she feared would be left on a future note. _Your friend_.

For now, she figured it was what she needed. The blonde had been giving her space. No visits or gestures at the coffee shop, no fateful meetings on campus (besides at the Club Fair the day before), and just their lecture together later in the afternoon.

Somehow, though, it made her stomach feel light, as it did when she finished reading the note. She ended up sleeping on the geek monkeys instead, leaving the new sheets to be contemplated after the next encounter with her new 'friend'.

_What am I afraid of? They're just sheets._

But there was something about the word '**bed**sheets'.

Like sleeping to dream about… _her_.

…

A series of electro-pop beats rang from her pocket. She swiped the screen and brought it to her ear.

"Enjoying your non-existential bouncer duties, Bitchass?" she smirked.

The voice was not amused. "Cos… we got a situation."

She frowned. "What?"

"Just.. come here. Hurry."

Making her way down the green, she spotted a crowd of students by the sign up area. She pushed through them to find Art with more of a surprised expression than the worry she had expected.

"What's happening?" she spoke over the chatter. "Why are all these people here?"

Her secretary broke into a bemused smile. "They're all here… to _join_…!"

She shook her head. "What are you— join what?"

"Gamers Club!" Kenneth exclaimed, bursting towards them, showing the paper in his hand. "20 sign ups already!"

Cosima couldn't believe it. Her eyes grew wide as she surveyed her officers. "How…?"

Art ran a hand through his buzzed head. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"What do you mean?"  
"Look."

She followed their gazes to where computer science majors with long hair and loose t-shirts milled about to a line that included students she didn't even fathom to be into gaming.

Behind the table, manning the sign up sheets, was a familiar blonde. As if by instinct, the girl looked up and met her stare. A grin and a wave.

Cosima brought a hand up in circumspect and returned the greeting with confusion.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, her mouth gaping. "You let her _run the table?_"

"She kind of just… walked up and started talking to us," Kenneth piped.  
"Yeah," Art added. "Asked us where you were - and then these people started passing by asking about the club."  
"And when she said she just joined, they immediately signed up!"  
"Then more people arrived, so, uhh… we let her stay."

She didn't know what was worse - Delphine joining a gaming organization when she probably had no knowledge of how to turn on an Xbox, or Delphine joining _her _organization and becoming a bigger part of her life than she was ready for.

_Did this girl even understand what the word 'impertinence' means?_

But as upset as she was at the unwanted surprises of the morning, she could not deny the fact that her dreams of New York Comic Con were slowly becoming a reality.

All because of one French princess who was now one of U. of MN's 34,000+ undergraduate students.

Maybe fairy tales _were_ real.

* * *

**A/N:** _Hi everyone :) Sorry for the delay with all of the recent OB/Tatiana happenings and updating my other chapter fic, Twigs (the one I have yet to move over from AO3). But thank you very much for sticking around and for taking the time to leave reviews! It's also great to hear from those of you who enjoyed the handwritten notes version on the previous tumblr update. :)_

_c'était tu, n'est-ce pas? = it was you, wasn't it?_


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